


A Dance at the Ball

by Katalyna_Rose



Series: Vhenan and Associated Stories (Lyna Lavellan) [20]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Halamshiral
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-29 20:40:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10861680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katalyna_Rose/pseuds/Katalyna_Rose
Summary: Florianne is defeated and the evening's battle is won. Lyna takes a few moments to herself at the masquerade, but Solas finds her there. Having her solitude interrupted is not such a bad thing, after all.





	A Dance at the Ball

Lyna leaned against the balcony railing and sighed heavily, Morrigan’s parting words still ringing in her ears like the chains that had encircled Duchess Florianne’s wrists. The night replayed itself in her mind, pieces of it echoing over and over. The sight of the dead servants, killed for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, still haunted her, as did their perceived expendability. Even Briala, who had lost many of her own people, had seemed nonchalant about their deaths and mourned only the opportunities that had been lost to her.

Still, with Briala to champion her people to Celene the elves of Orlais had a chance at betterment. The two of them had seemed genuinely pleased at the chance of a renewed relationship, smiling at each other with longing in their eyes.

Lyna was so tired. Tired of death and war and demons and betrayal. She wanted that look that Celene and Briala had shared. She wanted to see it reflected in storm blue eyes. She wanted a chance to settle and live a normal life, or at least as normal as she could ever achieve after this strange adventure of hers. She didn’t delude herself into believing that she could just slide back into clan life after her time with the Inquisition.

A soft footstep drew her attention and she knew without looking who was intruding upon her solitude. She quickly wiped the moisture away from her eyes and turned to Solas with a smile as he leaned upon the railing beside her. His eyes were clear and bright, happy with their victory, and the hand that he settled on the small of her back was warm and steady. She couldn’t help returning his smile, even if it was small and quivered slightly.

She remembered earlier, finding him leaning against a statue, perfectly at ease in this world of silks and masks, far more so than she had expected. She’d been searching for something, but she hadn’t been able to help herself when she stopped in front of him. He’d looked regal and she’d smirked at his hat. She loved it when he subtly insulted people around him, and that hat was a deft and subtle insult. Even though it looked a bit ridiculous, she loved it.

He’d leaned towards her, mischief in his smirk and the crinkling around his eyes. “I do adore the heady blend of power, intrigue, danger, and sex that permeates these events,” he’d said, his voice low and warm, his face so close that she felt his breath ghost over her lips. She’d shivered and his smirk widened. As with the moment she’d exited her carriage, handed out by Duke Gaspard, his eyes had raked over her body with a possessiveness she hadn’t expected. True, she’d worked very hard on her appearance. Unlike the rest of them, she had refused to wear that gaudy dress uniform. Josephine had argued for its practicality, but Vivienne had taken Lyna’s side and pushed for something more fashionable. She was the Inquisitor, after all, and she should look it. In the end, she’d worked with Vivienne behind Josephine’s back to have her dress and mask made. Solas’s eyes had lingered where the soft silver material dipped down to reveal her cleavage and the flashes of her leg revealed by the slit up the side. He had examined her minimalist mask with its silver halla antlers with a smile. His gaze on her body had been almost enough to make her trip as she stepped out of the carriage. She had kept her eyes on him as Gaspard whispered parting words into her ear, laced with innuendo, and she had taken strength from the way his jaw clenched as he watched the Duke stare at her chest without shame.

When she asked Solas to dance with her at some point during the night, he had seemed disappointed as he forced himself to turn her down. “Perhaps once our business here is concluded,” he’d added. She was still upset that he had been announced as her “elven manservant,” but he’d insisted that it was of no consequence. She still found it disrespectful.

“I’m not surprised to find you out here,” he said, his smile unwavering as his eyes scanned every detail of her face and bringing her mind back to the present. “Thoughts?”

“I have a feeling this is only a temporary victory,” she said softly.

“There’s much, much more trouble ahead,” he agreed. “For now, focus on what’s in front of you.” His smile was kind as he read the shadows in her eyes. She smiled as he maneuvered her so that they were facing each other, placing himself squarely in front of her.

“Subtle,” she muttered, and he smirked. He looked over his shoulder into the ballroom, where a new song was beginning and dancers lined the hall.

“Come, before the band stops playing, dance with me!” he said, smiling and holding out his hand to her with a bow. She couldn’t help but smile.

“I’d love to,” she told him, slipping her hand into his. He pulled her to him and led her in the dance, his hand on her back feeling far more intimate than it should. With the hand that rested on his shoulder, she touched the silver nose piece of his hat. He chuckled.

“I knew you would recognize it,” he murmured, his voice low and rumbling in the space between them.

“How could I not?” she asked with a grin. “It was a book we read together.”

“Ah,” he said, seeming pleased. “So it was.”

“It’s a nice touch, really,” she told him. He leaned in and rubbed his cheek over her silver antlers.

“I must say, I approve of your choice, as well,” he murmured, and his hands tightened on her as she shivered. “You do the People proud tonight.” His praise tasted like the sweetest ambrosia. She tilted her face up to him, words of thanks on her lips, but his mouth claimed hers in a searing kiss. She whimpered and held him tightly. He broke the pattern of the dance to wrap his arms around her and hold her close. After only a few moments they stopped even pretending to dance and simply clung to each other, lips and tongues doing the dancing.

The possessiveness with which he had gazed at her all night bled into his kiss, and he leaned her back to make her cling to him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, allowing herself to be possessed and possessing him in return. She gasped as he nibbled her lips.

“I couldn’t stand to see the way they all tried to possess you,” he murmured in between kisses. “They all wanted something from you and they all thought you would give it to them. I wanted so badly to stride across the room to you and kiss you like this before them all.” He paused to thrust his tongue into her mouth, the kiss mimicking sex for long minutes as she simply struggled to keep up. “I wanted to claim you and let them see that I am yours.”

“I wanted that, too,” she told him breathlessly. “Gaspard has a preference for elven lovers and I wanted so badly to knee him in sensitive bits all night long.”

“He kept claiming you for dances that I wanted to lead you in,” he whispered, his arms tightening around her. “I wanted to rip his arms away from you, especially as they kept wandering lower.” He palmed her ass roughly, possessively.

“The only reason I managed to smile at him and go through the motions was because I was thinking of you,” she gasped. He kissed her harder.

A titter of laughter sounded from just beyond the door and they broke apart. Lyna nervously straightened her dress, brushing it out and blushing furiously. Solas sighed dejectedly.

“The evening isn’t over yet,” he lamented. He hesitated, then held his arm out to her. She grinned at him and took it. Though the ball wasn’t over, their goals had been achieved and Lyna no longer cared about her image as much. To be seen on the arm of her “elven manservant” would likely make both Josephine and Vivienne cluck, but she didn’t care. It would amuse Bull and Dorian, anyway. Arm in arm, they rejoined the ball.

**Author's Note:**

> SOLAS IS WEARING THE HELM OF DRASCA AT HALAMSHIRAL TO GIVE ORLESIANS THE MIDDLE FINGER AND I FUCKING LOVE IT. Look it up on the Wiki to figure out why.
> 
> Someone convince me that Gaspard wouldn't be a pig to a female Lavellan. Someone show me why. Seriously. I want to see it.


End file.
